No Place Else I Could Be (but here in your arms)
by Ruby Casablanca
Summary: At the end of a long gravel road, there is a cabin in the middle of the woods. Of course Peter would want to come here. There had only ever been one person he felt safe around, even if that person was dead. Alternatively: Peter goes into hiding after the events of FFH, and MJ follows, because the last thing Peter should be is alone.


No Place Else I Could Be (but here in your arms) 

At the end of a long gravel road, there is a cabin in the middle of the woods.

It's the only thing for miles, only the birds and the buzz of cicadas to keep them company. It's sitting on a lake, and that too seems to go on forever with no other signs of civilization in sight. A perfect place to hide. A perfect place to die.

MJ is pretty sure she's seen this horror movie before.

The only thing that keeps her from ducking out of a moving vehicle is her trust that Happy wouldn't bring her all the way out here to kill her. No, Happy is a friend. Happy could be trusted.

After the initial creepiness of a lone cabin in the middle of the woods wears off, MJ notices the finer details. A murder cabin definitely would not have a pink bike propped up against the front steps. A murder cabin would not have toys scattered about the yard - dolls and buckets and...screwdrivers? - making a trail towards a fort big enough to fit a child. A murder cabin would not feel so loved.

Still, MJ lets Happy get out of the car first, lets him turn the engine off and make the first move forward. He doesn't get very far before the front door opens and someone steps out. She is pretty, so very pretty: a tall thin woman with pale skin and long red hair. But she is also sad, so very sad. She smiles when she sees Happy but that smile is full of grief. Hers is a familiar face, one MJ has only seen on magazines and television screens, not all of her headlines good - the most recent ones the worst of all.

And then, MJ gets it. Of course Peter would want to come here. There had only ever been one person he felt safe around, even if that person was dead.

MJ can't hear what the sad woman says to Happy, can't see her tears as he pulls her in for a hug, but MJ can tell when they both turn towards the car. They are waiting for her, she realizes with a start.

MJ gets out of the car, but her feet are slow to move. Each step is heavy and uncertain, and she doesn't know why. Maybe she is afraid of what she'll find inside. Maybe she is afraid that she has come all this way for nothing.

Up on the porch, Happy takes MJ gently by the shoulder and introduces her to the sad woman: Pepper Potts. _Potts_, MJ notes, not _Stark_. Not _Stark,_ but there is a diamond ring on the fourth finger of Pepper's left hand. It's a distinction that MJ wants to ask about, her curious tongue itching to know. She bites the urge down. This is hardly the time to break open more wounds.

"I'm here to see Peter," she says instead, a pointless thing to say when her intentions are obvious. Why else would she be here?

Pepper smiles. It's still an incredibly sad thing. Her grief gets under MJ's skin, makes her squirm.

The three of them walk inside the house. It's larger on the inside, more spacious, and clearly much more high-tech than the outside would let anyone believe. There are more toys scattered on the floor, and they have to weave through the mess in order to keep from tripping. Pepper leaves MJ in the den, walking around a corner and up a set of stairs. Happy leaves too, disappearing around the opposite corner to what looks like the kitchen.

Though her entourage has left, MJ is not alone.

May is there. She is sitting on the couch with her legs curled underneath her, staring into the fireplace. When MJ moves a little closer, May turns to face her. MJ has met Peter's aunt before, briefly in passing from one of many science competitions, field trips, and, most recently, Spider-Man related events. They do not speak; they only look at each other. If May is curious as to how MJ found her way to their hide out, she does not say it.

Happy returns and hands May a cup of something hot and steaming. She takes it, her hands trembling and eyes shining with something grateful. She scoots over and lets Happy have half the couch. They sit side by side and no one speaks. Their actions say enough.

MJ contemplates moving to a different room to give the two adults on the couch some space, but then Pepper walks in and all eyes shift towards her. She looks about ten years more tired than she did when she first went upstairs.

"He won't leave his room."

"That's okay," MJ says, shouldering her backpack and cocking her head side to side. She expected as much. "Which way?"

"Second door on the right."

MJ gives Pepper a tight-lipped smile. Anything brighter would have felt forced, and the last thing Pepper needs is to feel like she has to be anything more than what she could currently give.

MJ ascends the stairs with something that feels like dread in her heart. The feeling gets stronger the closer she gets to the second door on the right. It's cracked, but MJ still can't see what lies inside. Her hand hovers over the door before foregoing a knock altogether. The door creaks open, blowing her cover, but the figure curled up in a ball on the far side of the bed does not move. It keeps its back to the door and its head tucked low.

"Not now, Mrs. Stark. Please," says the ball, voice barely a whisper and rough from all the tears its shed. _Stark_, the ball says, not _Potts_. MJ wonders how much it hurts for Pepper to hear that.

MJ steps into the room and shuts the door behind her. She drops her backpack on the floor and goes to the foot of the bed. She's afraid to go any further, afraid of what happens next. She's never been very good at the whole emotional support thing.

"Well, I guess I came all this way for nothing then."

The ball uncoils at the sound of her voice, sitting upright and turning into something vaguely Peter Parker shaped. He looks terrible, worse than MJ dared to imagine. His wide, disbelieving eyes are bloodshot and rimmed in red, sunken into his face and surrounded by dark circles. He's too pale and he looks thinner underneath the baggy sweatshirt and sweatpants. He probably hasn't eaten a thing since the broadcast. MJ knows she hasn't.

"MJ? Wh-what are you - ?" Peter stammers, his brain too slow to process what he is seeing. "You're here."

MJ shrugs and tries not to fidget under pressure. She fails. Spectacularly.

"Where else would I be?"

"You shouldn't be here."

He's not trying to be rude. Peter doesn't have a mean bone in his body. He's just confused and exhausted and scared. They both know that being at the cabin puts MJ in danger. This is probably the stupidest, riskiest idea MJ has ever had but she can't bring herself to regret it. Not when she is inching closer toward the bed and Peter is leaning forward to reach her faster.

Peter is miserable, and this is the worst time to joke, but MJ can't help herself. "If you don't want me, I'll just have Happy take me back - "

A hand reaches out and clasps around her wrist tight enough to bruise. She doesn't pull away. "No. Stay. Please."

So she does. It's that simple.

MJ lets herself be pulled further into Peter's orbit. She crawls up on the bed and straddles his lap. The hand on her wrist moves to wrap around her waist and pull her close. His other arm coils around her as well and his head finds its way to the juncture where her neck meets her shoulder. He has his ear on her heartbeat and his hands fisted in the fabric of her tee shirt. Peter inhales deeply, his exhale a wet, shuddering thing. MJ's heart aches and her fingers find their way into Peter's hair, stroking and holding him there for as long as he needs.

"I-it's not true," Petter stutters, his voice muffled against her skin. "The video...what B-beck said...I'm not, it's not - "

She pulls back and kisses him briefly, barely touching her lips to his, but it is enough to silence the desperate stammers. When she pulls away, his eyes are wet, and she goes to wipe away the tears.

"I know. I was there. I believe you."

Peter nods and more tears spill over.

"You're a good person, Peter."

This, this is too much for him to handle at the moment. Or maybe it is exactly what Peter needs to hear. He falls into MJ's embrace as if someone has cut all his strings. He falls into MJ and she catches him, holds him close and lays them down face-to-face. His arms are still wrapped around her, one now pinned beneath her body. He does not try to move it. Instead, he burrows closer, his head tucked beneath her chin, resting on her sternum. Their legs intertwine and MJ rests her own head on top of his wavy mop of curls. It is not the most comfortable position in the world, but Peter is warm and his weight is grounding. MJ's eyelids feel like they are made of lead.

Sleep. They both need sleep. MJ hasn't slept in days. From the looks of him, Peter hasn't slept in longer. They're both bone tired and sick with worry, but it's better now that they have each other within reach. With Peter in her arms, MJ finds it so much easier to breathe. All the monsters, real or otherwise, fade to background noise with the birds and cicadas.

That's how Pepper finds them, hours later: curled around each other and fast asleep. She smiles to herself, a little more happy than sad, and shuts the door.


End file.
